


If we just went on

by imaynotknowwhatimdoing



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaynotknowwhatimdoing/pseuds/imaynotknowwhatimdoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sleepless night can change everything....</p>
            </blockquote>





	If we just went on

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Bayern wins the club world championship.
> 
>  
> 
> -Forgive me any language mistakes or misspellings-

“Fuck”, Mario let out, as his boyfriend fell on top of him, both of them a sweaty mess, their breathing heavy, Marco snuggled on his neck, smiling sleepily, breathing in Mario’s strong aftershave, the younger man giggle a bit. Marco got off of him, lying on his side, tangling their feet. Silence took over the room as their breathing got steadier. Marco closed his eyes, a perfect grin still taking over his face, laying his head on Mario’s chest and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Cold. So cold. Marco pulled the covers over him. Not enough. His mind was buzzing, his hands trembling, his eyes still shut. He searched for the warm body that would be lying next to him. He found nothing but an empty bed. His eyes shot open, while he sat in bed, letting himself fall back down when he realized he wasn’t there. Fuck. Just a dream. He grabbed his phone from the night stand, 4am. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep he got up, anything is better than laying here thinking about…

He sat on the big couch that filled a good part of his living room, TV on to keep company, not really to watch. It had been an awful day, they’ve lost, he had scored, obviously not enough, never enough. Bayern had won the club world cup too, he had watched a good part of the game, he turned it off once Mario went on. He didn’t have to deal with this shit.

He let his head fall back, grunting, tired. He wanted to text him, say he’s forgiven and all he wants is for him to come back to him, just for one night. Fuck. He mentally punched himself. Stop. Focus. After a few more minutes of mental-punching, he got up, turned off the TV and went to bed.

 _Now sleep._ He thought for the hundredth time. He has been lying for what felt like ages, moving around, trying to find a comfortable position, also failing at doing so. He grabbed his phone again, 5am, good thing he didn’t have anything scheduled for the next day, just hanging out with Marcel… He wondered, now, about calling him, wouldn’t be the first time he called his best friend in the middle of the night just for the sake of it. Then he remembered he told him he would be out with this girl he was seeing, tonight. Marco wasn’t too keen on interrupting whatever his best friend would be doing, so he opened Candy Crush, it should keep his mind off for some time. He ran out of lives too quickly.

After a few minutes of wondering around his cell phone, he found himself looking at some pictures of them, from summer, Mario’s birthday. He asked himself why the hell he hadn’t deleted those, but, for a second, he was glad he didn’t. He breathed deeply, wondered what he’d be doing. Probably celebrating, probably drunk. Smiling to himself, he remember how funny Mario looked when drunk, his face reddish, hanging on to him to keep himself from falling, doing _a lot_ of inappropriate touching in the middle of a club packed with people who could have seen it, screaming his name a dash out of tune… Fuck! Stop! He shut his eyes with all the strength he had. _Stop._

His phone buzzed right after he had decided to turn it off a focus on trying to sleep.

“New message: Sunny ☀”

He didn’t know if he wanted to punch Mario for texting him in the middle of the night, or himself, for still having that stupid nickname there.

He tried not to open the text, he did, but he also failed, miserably.

“i misss u”

Marco’s heart filled with anger, the wanted to throw his phone on the floor, watch as it would break. He wanted to do so, and then sleep, finally sleep. He ended up realizing that that wouldn’t have much effect on how he felt, not long term, so he just nervously ran his right hand through his hair, sighing. He wondered if Mario was drunk, he probably was, drunk texting was one of his expertise.

He thought about texting back, telling him to go to bed, or telling him to fuck off and leave him alone, or maybe just tell him that he missed him too, that he had dreamt about them, about when they were still together, about their hands running through each other’s bodies, about their togetherness. He decided that not answering was the best option, covering his head with the blankets on top of him, he tried to sleep and now he didn’t fail to do so.

 

The loud sound of Drake music echoed through the bedroom. Marco tried to open his eyes, but the bright sun coming from the slightly opened window blinded him right away. He grabbed his phone, not even looking at it, and answered.

“What?!” He more like groaned, it’s not like he wanted to, he was just tired.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, I mean, I was a bit drunk, didn’t mea…” Marco’s eyes opened wide. Mario kept on blabbing, but he didn’t listen. He wondered if Mario was still drunk, or if he, himself, was just having another extremely vivid dream. They hadn’t talked since Mario had scored against Dortmund and they had a small fight that ended up with both of them deciding to end this, it would be for the best. _The Best._

“I…” Marco started, but stopped right away. He could hear the breathing, heavy breathing, on the other side, he could almost see Mario’s expecting eyes, waiting for his answer.

“I’m just so sorry” He could hear the younger man’s voice almost breaking, like he was trying not to cry. “For everything.” He finally let out and after a few minutes of silence Marco ended the call and fell back to his mattress, cursing everything and everyone, Mario, Bayern, himself… _Fuck._

He didn’t know what to do, but he decided that sitting there, feeling sorry for himself one more day, would not do it. He grabbed his phone, he called Marcel, who answered after two ringings.

“You know that girl you told me about?” Marco’s voice was shaking a bit too much.

“Yes?!” He could almost feel the smile on Marcel’s face.

“Could you maybe give me her number?!” He let out with a grin, almost proud of himself.

It was called moving on. And he felt great about it!

 

Three months went by, Marco was dating the said girl, Seffi, she was gorgeous, he had thought the first time he saw her, short blond hair, green eyes, a skin tone a bit more tanned than expected for someone who had spent their entire life in Dortmund. And then, when he actually met her, when he got to talk to her, he understood what Marcel had said about them being made for each other. They hit off right away, they started _actually_ dating after two weeks and the fact that she was friends with Marcel’s girl only helped to the cause.

Thing is, first time he fucked her, Mario came to his mind, always Mario; he fucked her harder, to clear all his thoughts away, she didn’t mind, and it did work, until he was done with it, and then all his thoughts were filled with the younger man’s body. It would eventually go away, right?! _It would._ It did, for the most part. He was finally happy in his little world, he had a stable relationship and he had managed to avoid Mario and eliminate most of the thoughts that were devoted to the younger man. He wasn’t a “grumpy little shit” anymore, to quote Marcel; It felt nice.

It really did. But then a National Team call up came and his stomach collapsed the moment he realized he’d be with him, again, after three months of no contact in any shape or form – Mario had not even tried to text him again, and he probably already knew about Seffi.

“Call me when you get there, will you?” She smiled, looking up at him, right after their lips separated.

“Yes, yes, yes mom” Marco let out a big grin, kissing her forehead. And with another prolonged peck on her lips, he left for the plane.

He was traveling with Mats but, as usual, he ended up going thought security and everything alone, while his friend made sure everyone on the airport knew how much he liked to kiss his girlfriend.

The trip was short and very soon they were arriving at the team hotel, Marco debating with Candy Crush, as he spent the whole time.

“Are you nervous?” Mats asked, putting his phone down. Marco raised an eyebrow as response.

“About Götze?” Mats went on.

Marco blinked hard. _What?!_ Did he knew anything? How could he know? “What do you mean?” He tried his best to not give away his internal freaking out.

“I mean…” Mats licked his lips, buying time to form his words better. “You haven’t talked in ages, are you still friends?” Marco shrugged and got out of the taxi, as they arrived at the hotel’s front. They weren’t, the answer was easy, and he could have told Mats, he could have talked to him about that – he just felt like if he acted that he wasn’t bothered, then he wouldn’t be bothered at all.

However once he entered the hotel and saw him speaking with Toni and Thomas - his new team mates, his new friends, _his new life_ – he had to take a deep breath to keep calm. _C’mon Marco._ He tried to find someone to go and talk to, avoid Mats conversation and ignore Mario’s big smile at the corner of his eye.

“’Sup pretty boy…” Someone approached him from behind, a grin on his face and a beanie on his head. André had just saved him. Marco turned around and gave him a friendly hug, then proceeding to catch up with his friend. They talked about everything, and since André didn’t touch the subject Mario, he assumed his friend knew enough to keep quiet about the matter.

He ended up sharing his room with André, glad (once again) he didn’t ask why he wasn’t staying with Mario, as usual. And, once he arrived his room, after dinner, he was just glad he had been able to ignore him. _One day is done._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:  
> Imagine your OTP sleeping together. Person A wakes up and reaches over to snuggle closer to Person B. The bed is cold and empty and as Person A sits up, they remember that Person B has been dead…Last night had been a dream. Person A then begins to cry. ( http://rosetylersmoment.tumblr.com/post/34674494184/imagine-your-otp-sleeping-together-person-a-wakes )  
> -changed it a lot though.


End file.
